Last night’s FML rant was posted from a phone so I didn’t really proof it or post read it. This morning I did on laptop and um, yeah, what a whiner I am. I do get too bent, as the donor used to mock. He’d tell Spook, “Tell Mommy not to get so bent.” I didn’t find it funny, because with anxiety disorder, when things pile up, you DO get bent. I don’t want to invalidate myself by letting it all build up and boil over, but maybe I should try not to let every overload short circuit my brain.

The seasonal affective is really screwing with me. I felt it coming weeks ago when the temperature started to drop and it was too cold to get up at night even to pee. Now it’s getting dark earlier, which means it’s getting cold earlier. Nighttime dark doesn’t bother me, night is supposed to be dark, and the professionals can piss off with their light therapy shit. Which btw, I went looking at these “full spectrum lights” that supposedly cure the seasonal depression and nine out of ten said, “not for use by those with bipolar”.What the fuck is that? Doctors swear by them for depression, yet bipolars shouldn’t use it? Is too much light gonna make me go manic? Cos if so, I’m gonna have a fundraiser to buy some of those lights and stack ’em like Marshall amps. (They’re not cheap when your budget is nil, at least not the “good” ones.)

It really hit me this morning that the seasonal has kicked in because the alarm (the first one, anyway) went off at 6:30 and it was still dark out. I was confused, thinking maybe I set the alarm wrong. Fuck. How can I acclimate when things are constantly changing? And truth be told, even with the depression being brought on, I am coveting the season change in hopes the anxiety will die down. Maybe I can get into the pocket of comfort I need to return to writing, which does help the depression.

I waited months to watch the new show Quantico. Started watching it this morning. Then hit pause so I could write this, cos scumbag brain has had its morning meds and is swirling in its hypomanic glory which dictates TELL THE WORLD HOW FUCKED UP YOU ARE COS GOD KNOWS, FOUR YEARS OF POSTS SAYING IT ARE NOT ENOUGH!

But, since denial is promoted in this society, I am gonna let this graphic speak for me.

I have this Chessie cat poster in my hallway, actually, minus the lettering. That cat’s teeth look like they could shred you. Coooool.

I got so bent with Spook’s episode last night, I didn’t update on my Saturday freak out. I know everyone’s been waiting in suspense to hear the rest…Ha ha ha.

Actually, I found some god-knows-how-long-this-has-been-back-in-the-fridge Mangorita and took more Xanax Saturday. Yes, I know, bad Morgue, whatever. It was worthwhile because Mrs. R did come to my door about the trip out of town. By then, I was okay. I didn’t particularly want to go, but I didn’t particularly have an excuse not to as it was to be a quick trip. Spook behaved wonderfully. I was uncomfortable but not spazzing out.

Until we got to Best Buy and the saleskid started pushing his “any computer under seven hundred dollars is crap” spiel. Then I got mouthy and Snarkasma made an appearance. I mean, really? My slave desktop cost me a hundred bucks five years ago. I am using a nine year old Dell laptop with an Acer hard drive swapped that I got for free. I paid seventy five (Actually, R paid half of that) for my Dell desktop on the bedroom. The toshiba laptop with the busted screen was free. So don’t give me this shit about cost meaning fuck all if you’re not driving the computer into the ground with endless gaming.

He started sweet talking the lady who obviously reeks of money about how he doesn’t get rewarded for pushing the pricier computers, blah blah blah. Whatever. Snarkasma doesn’t buy it.

Not to mention, back before Nardil destroyed my brain more than bipolar already had, I was in retail management. Yes, you suggestive sell. But when someone comes in, says, “This is what I want it to do, this is the price range I am willing to pay,” then you take them to what they want and shut your fucking mouth instead of forcing your personal views on the customer. I can’t stand the hard sell. It’s not simply me being poor or cheap. It’s basic respect. Don’t tell me what I want, just lead me to what I am telling you I want.

Needless to say, Snarkasma made the poor saleskid turn beet red by telling his supervisor, when he asked, that the kid had been very forcefully helpful. What? I make grown men cry, it’s my thing, apparently. And fortunately, Mrs. R was bright enough not to fall for their shit. She was however talked into the two hundred dollar Geek Squad thing. Ugh. Whatever. I don’t have seven hundred dollars to drop like that, not my business.

She took Spook and I to McDonald’s afterward, even though I told her I had no money. She bought us drinks and we shared some fries. I was not fond of the public thing but at least it wasn’t busy and I was super calm. (Xan-ita should be a food group.)

Later she beckoned me over cos she couldn’t get Windows ten to connect to the wifi at the house. I hate new shit. I hate the way Windows thinks they are “improving” things when in fact, Windows XP or 7 were basically flawless and they’re just making things worse for those of us who want a simpler interface. (Call me a relic, whatever.)

I couldn’t wait to get out of there, cos R had friends over she doesn’t like, which quashed her plans to go out for supper with him, and it was just tense…Ugh. Marriage is evil. No thanks.

So that was Saturday. I went to bed at 9 p,m. took two Restoril, and slept like the dead. I woke a few times, but for once, I woke in the morning feeling like i had actually slept.

Yesterday was non eventful aside from Spook acting out then turning into devil child. I am hoping once she is assessed for ADHD it will give some answers. Because this morning she acted like I was the best mom ever and nothing had happened. I don’t think this is a case of the kid being unhappy and secretly depressed. She doesn’t like the word no. And if she has attention deficit it explains the aggression to a tee. I am not prepared to write her off. I am not prepared to admit defeat personally, either. My job is to be her mom, not her friend.

She learned that latter part from my mother. When I tried to learn computer repair (epic fail that it was) and Mom babysat Spook, the child got ruined. My mom is yes lady. Yes to everything cos she doesn’t want to make the child mad. It was how she raised us. Why I couldn’t wait to get out at 17. I wanted a mother, I wanted boundaries. I needed them as a kid. Instead I got slapped upside the head with them as a newbie adult.

Not to say I haven’t played a role in creating my monster. When her donor walked out, I guess I felt being mom and dad to her meant also going above and beyond to make her happy in any way I could. She turned into a spoiled brat and my mom just furthered it. My mom’s mentality is, “OH, well, if she broke her new dvd player, it was cheap. I’ll just buy her another one.” Not what I want my kid to learn.

So I am correcting my mother’s damage, as well as whatever damage done by being abandoned by a “father”, plus anything organic like ADHD while balancing such a limited budget and my own mental issues and the donor doesn’t pay a cent…I think my “bent” status is explained well.

Main thing is, it’s hard and I am still here, even in my mental train wreck state. I am TRYING.

Even if I am failing frequently. I keep trying.

And I don’t even get a lollipop.

Okay. I think I am done ranting like a mad woman. Back to Quantico. Fiction soup for the soul. Then I have to figure out how to get all the way out to the pediatrician’s office to get the ADHD paperwork for the school, cos I don’t have enough gas in the car. Maybe my sister could take me or R would let me use his car. Ugh, I hate asking for help from them. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I accept help, I have no pride when it comes to survival. But with my family and “friends” it comes with years long strings and guilt trips even if all they did was pass the salt at a meal. Hate it.

I am feeling a mixed state today. Sluggish but manic thoughts and mental energy. It’s not productive.

It’s confusing to be in two places at once. But then, bipolar itself is the epitome of confusion.

Woke up to my alarm this morning. Shut it off. Overslept, only thing that saved me was a text message waking me.

Went to the shop and got done what was on my list within ninety minutes. That’;s always nice. I am starting to feel edgy there. Ringing phone, customers coming in, and R is so vague with his instructions. It’s anxiety inducing and I cannot leave fast enough. Last year I enjoyed being there. I have no idea what has changed except my mental space.

It is so galling to be doing ok for awhile, then to not being so good. This is the scary part, The prelude to sinking down the rabbit hole. Next step: waking up facedown in trash you haven’t taken out in days because the panic attacks are so brutal. Facedown because your only survival method is to drink yourself into a stupor and pass out wherever.

Been there, done that, did NOT buy the t-shirt.

But now I have no desire to drink. It gives me heartburn and makes me sleepy so what’s the point?

I picked up my scripts today. The doctor increased my lithium to 1200. You’d think 300 mg four times a day, But no. For whatever broken logic I do not get, she prescribed both 300 and 150 mg. ‘Cos I am doing so well now where I have to commend myself for putting on pants, I can totally do math and take two in the morning and one at lunch and one at supper and this dosage at bedtime. Geesh, trying to treat my illness is resembling rocket science.

Frankly, everything is just complicated and hard at this time.

Now that I have bitched and moaned,,,

I will spew some rainbows and sunshine to prove I am not the pessimist overlord,

The Originals- new vampire show. AWESOME.

A warm shirt just out of the dryer- amazing.

Music (especially Love+Lust+Faith+Dreams by 30 Seconds to Mars or anything by 30STM.)- a bandage for my bleeding soul.

Glazed crullers- not big on sweets but these donuts are surely the result of magic